


Deep Blue Sorrow

by my_soul_is_fire



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Season/Series 11, Sorrow, dream - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-27 22:27:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6302662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/my_soul_is_fire/pseuds/my_soul_is_fire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is gone for three weeks now, and Dean has fallen apart.<br/>But an odd dream will change everything, forever...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deep Blue Sorrow

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what this is, honestly. Hope you'll enjoy anyway, and please, tell me what you think about it! :)  
> Quotes before and after text by me.  
> Excuse my English.

 

 _I_ _dreamt of ashes last night._

 

_I was a paper boat and you were my sea of flames._

_I woke in pain and tears,_

_The sheets were cold and you were not here._

 

_Oh, I dreamt of ashes last night..._

 

 

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

 

 

 

"Hey, Dean are you ok?"

 

Sam's voice makes his brother jump on his seat. He raises his head and blinks a few times, confused. He didn't hear a single word of Sam's speech, but hey, he can't blame him, not after this exhausting hunt. The witch was hard to find and harder to kill, and the bitch left them with bruises and ugly wounds.

There's enough on his mind for now, and he's tired. The cases, the monsters, Amara, Lucifer... He deserved a fine beer in silence, and yet, Sam seemed ready to bother him for hours. He doesn't answer but stares at his tall idiot of a brother instead.

Sam moves on his chair and his eyes become darker, and he looks like he's been on this earth for centuries. He plays with his empty bottle of beer and glances at Dean. Finally, he clears his throat.

"It's about Cas, isn't it?"

 

Yeah, that too.

Dean blinks a few times, again. He's not going to pretend the sound of this name didn't move some ropes tighter around his heart, and that a sudden wave of memories didn't hit him with a celestial violence. He looks at his drink without a word, because there's nothing to say.

Sam stares at his brother, and he would be blind if he didn't see the aching in Dean's eyes. He didn't mean to hurt him, or to make an old wound open again, but he's worried about him, and the concrete walls Dean has built around him cannot protect him from his brother's attention.

Sam sighs. "Dean, we're going to find a way to save him, you know it. We are not-"

" I know. "

 

Sam raises his head again, surprised by Dean's cold words. When he meets his brother's eyes, he can't help but notice the sorrow circling in them like birds of prey around a dying man. Dean isn't the type of person who talks easily about his emotions, and it's not a surprise to anyone. But can't Dean just see Sam is trying to help? After all, Cas is his friend too. Dean shouldn't be the only one bearing the weight of grief on his shoulders.

But there's something more. Dean isn't just feeling sad or guilty, he's acting like there was no turning back, like Cas was... dead in some way. Sam frowns at this sudden change. Not so long ago, Dean was the one full of hope, and he wouldn't let Sam pretend Cas may not want to come back.

And yet, he was now the one with dull eyes and long sighs. Maybe because it's already been three weeks since Cas is gone. It's like day after day, Dean's little spark of hope flew away, leaving him broken and empty.

 

Before Sam can say anything, Dean gets up suddenly. He's about to leave when he stops to step back, searching something in the room. He finally walks to a shelf and grabs a dusty bottle of an old whiskey – the one that was probably old enough to make you fall on your knees after one glass, if not less – and leaves the room, a trail of sorrow and pain floating behind him

 

 

** x **

 

 

Dean enters his room and falls on his bed, eyes wide open. He starts a staring contest with the ceiling, white void without a stain.

That burden, that heavy demon on his chest, sinking slowly in his old bones, it's still there.

He doesn't even change his clothes, he barely moves, fearing that a simple breath will dive the knives in his flesh a bit deeper. He feels tears of frustration coming to his eyes as he watches his world crumble at his feet.

 

What a miserable kingdom he got. What a fragile, small heart that can't handle the pain of loss. What a traitor, this mind!

What a bitter feeling, this rock on his lungs!

 

Dean sighs deeply and it hurts, it hurts. He takes a sip of whiskey and his throat burns. He winces of pain and he doesn't know if it's because of the alcohol or the sadness.

 

Maybe it's both.

A fine, old liquor of sorrow trapped into a bottle of flesh and blood for more than 30 years.

 

He sighs again, holding the whiskey closer, as it could bring him any warmth. The immaculate ceiling disappears slowly behind his eyelids, and he falls silently into his chaotic mind.

 

His body gets heavier, and the soft embrace of sleep surrounds him, chasing his burning tears away.

He falls into a warm and tender blackness.

 

 

**\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -**

 

 

Dean walks into the woods.

 

The trees are pushed by a cool and strong breeze, but it feels just like a caress on his skin, and he raises his head to the skies. The evening is falling quietly on the land, and the forest casts shadows on the ground, covering the bright green grass with thin ghosts.

Despite the gray clouds, some rays of sun manage to find a way to him, and each time one touches his face, it sends a small shiver of pleasure on his spine. Birds are singing in the trees where he can't see them, and except for him, there's no one around. And yet, he doesn't feel alone: he almost feels _**good**_.

It's like the forest was closing around him in a delicate bubble where sadness and pain weren't allowed.

 

He walks for a few more steps until he's finally out of the woods and he's suddenly facing the most breathtaking landscape he has ever seen.

 

He's standing on a high rocky cliff but below, everything is just bright, colorful fields. The timid sun shines on them, painting them with late afternoon colors. The wind is fresh and full of subtle scents, and Dean closes his eyes when he recognizes one: sharp, salty, wild. When he focuses a little more, he can hear the waves breaking on the shore, and the ocean roars with strength in his ears.

The cliff contrasts with the rest of the landscape. It's not soft and precious, but hard and cold. It's covered by dry red plants, and rare small white flowers here and there.

But there's also a strange detail: small rosebushes grow on this wild ground, and only God knows how. They seem to make a trail to the edge of the cliff and as Dean frowns in front of these odd flowers, he suddenly feels a shiver covering his whole body. He's not alone anymore, he's sure of this.

His hunter soul shakes him and he raises his head to look around him. No need to search further: it's right there, in front of him, standing like a stone on the edge of the rock, facing the moving ocean.

 

Dean's heart stops for what could be long, painful seconds. He stands for a moment there, staring at that pale silhouette, his limbs numb and tense at the same time. Finally, his heart starts beating again violently, in one move, making him walk like he was no longer in control of his body.

Because there's a force much stronger pushing him to that edge, leading him between these bushes of dark red roses and these other ones with dry and miserable white flowers.

As a small dot of light in front of the sky getting darker, among all the fantasies of his mind, there's a silhouette he'd recognize among thousand of others, in the crowd, in the chaos, in the end of the world.

 

Facing the ocean, there's Cas.

 

** x **

 

 

Dean is pushed to him by a force he can't explain, and he stumbles on his way to the edge of the cliff. He's not supposed to feel anything and yet, his whole soul is burning, and moving, and screaming. His blood is boiling in his veins, his bones are shaking.

He feels so weak, and he actually believed he was gonna fall several times. But that strange bubble keeps him standing, pushing him slightly when he's about to collapse on the ground like a dry leaf.

With shaking limbs and a mind full of questions without answers, he makes his last step and is finally standing next to the angel.

 

Dean doesn't dare to look at him, and it's stronger than him. The bubble surrounding him made his head numb and sore, and he can't do anything but stare at the wide dark ocean raging in front of him.

He doesn't remember seeing it once in his life, but there, it looks terribly real. The diverse shades of blue blend into one dark color, and the horizon shakes under the clouds. Dean dares to glance at the rocks at his feet, and he can see the water turning white against them. His soul is still shaking, but he's not cold.

The landscape is incredible, it's a living, breathing being. The skies are getting darker, and the stars began to appear like splashes of white and silver paint on a black canvas. The last embers of the day shine under them, turning the sky above Dean into something that catches his breath.

He's dreaming. Inside of him, he knows it. But it's like it doesn't matter, like that was just a detail. He won't even ask that question out loud, that would sound silly. He's perfectly thinking, like in the reality: he won't jump into the cold ocean, and he won't try to touch the fire of the skies.

 

Suddenly, the invisible cage around him seems to fade, slowly, leaving like rain on an autumn day. He breathes again, and the ocean and the fields travel into his lungs, growing bright flowers inside them. He blinks, quite confused of this new freedom, and it's like he's waking up, in a certain way.

He turns slowly and he sees him. Cas is staring at the water boiling and shining on the horizon, and the breeze makes his hair fly softly.

 

Dean finally manages to speak and it's as a strangled whisper that comes this word: " Cas? "

 

The angel's whole body stiffens, and he turns suddenly to Dean, and the hunter knows he just realized he was there. He sees it in his frowning face, in his confused blue eyes, in the words that get stuck into his throat when he tries to speak.

 

"What... what are you doing here?" asks Dean, and he didn't find anything better to say, because there's all that fire growing inside his heart and he can't even hear his own thoughts anymore.

 

Cas looks as confused as him, and he seems to breathe with difficulty.

"I don't know." he says, raising his puzzled eyes to Dean. He takes another breath, but this time it's deep and confident. When a thin smile appears on his face, Dean's heart nearly stops, for it's been a long, too long time since he last saw it.

 

"You're not supposed to be there, too, Dean." Castiel adds with the same smile full of warmth, but his words are shaking and his eyes seem a little too bright in this moment.

Dean has a little laugh and his heart grows like the tide, moves and shakes and his lungs are full of a wild and burning emotion. He glances at Cas, who is still looking at him and he'd swear he saw a small teardrop fell from his eyes, but he couldn't be sure, not in something as strange as his dream.

 

" Technically, we're inside my head so-" begins Dean before Cas makes a move that makes him stop. The angel is suddenly very serious and he slowly raises a hand to Dean. The hunter watches him without a word and suddenly, there's a hand on his shoulder.

And this hand is real, Dean can feel its weight. And this shoulder exists, Castiel can feel the bones and the flesh and the warmth under his fingers, and he grabs Dean's jacket like his life was depending on it.

 

"You're really here... how is that possible?" Cas says as he raises his head again to look at Dean deep into his eyes. The hunter is silent, he barely moves, afraid of waking his body. His feelings are already too damn real and this sorrowful face doesn't make anything better.

Dean observes the angel and he believes thorns have grown in his throat and that large, poisonous roses have bloomed into his lungs. Otherwise, he doesn't know how the air could be so heavy.

Castiel has another pale smile and his grip on Dean's shoulder slacks. He makes a small step back, and lowers his head, almost shyly. Dean's reaction is immediate. He won't let Cas leave, especially in one of his dreams. The past three weeks were already too awful, he won't accept more pain and more grief.

 

In a sudden, rough move, he grabs Cas' arm, making him stop stepping back. He takes him in his arms, pulling him into a desperate embrace. He holds him close against his chest, his hands tightening Castiel's coat and hair. He buries his face in this familiar scent and warmth.

 

In this one moment, so many thoughts rush to him, overwhelming him, creating sparkles in his head. He's holding a ocean of fire, a storm of gold and silver, a billion of shining stars. That's a whole galaxy melting into his arms, and he can feel the heat of a thousand suns.

The world seems to change around them. The breeze now blows with softness, and it's warm and tender. Even if Dean closed his eyes, he knows, in some strange way, that the colors became a lot brighter, that each flower, each tree is now a blinding ball of golden light. The ocean still roars with ferocity, but it's a sound coming as an odd and wild lullaby to their ears.

Dean holds the angel closer, feeling every bone, every veins. As well, Castiel even wrapped his arms around his waist, and his head is leaning on Dean's shoulder. The hunter can almost hear his own heart beating like a war drum, but there's no pain. No, there's a lot of things making the air electric around them, but there's no pain at all.

Dean breathes softly, and the fire inside him has faded away slowly. There's nothing, but a pleasing fresh sensation, a cool rain of diamonds in his mind.

 

When was the last time he felt so pure and calm? When he didn't want to run away? When he felt so safe, in peace with himself?

And when was the last time he shared a moment so private with someone? He doesn't even remember the last time he touched a person in any way, and it's like he forgot how to give affection.

When your life is just blood and dirt and fear, there's no time for tender feelings. There's only space for Death and tears.

 

And yet, that embrace didn't feel wrong, it wasn't making him feel uncomfortable. He was in the perfect place, at the perfect time. He was in Heaven, he was sure. Otherwise, this dream will feel terribly painful when he'll wake up...

No, he must not think of it, or it'll drive him crazy. Dreams belong to dreams, and nothing else, and it doesn't matter if this one feels too real. He can't think of the morning, or it'll destroy him.

 

He buries his head deeper into Cas' coat, enjoying the celestial warmth of it. He blesses every star up above for this moment, for something he has been craving for years, and especially since these three terrible weeks.

Cas is shivering, even shaking uncontrollably, and Dean may be wrong but he thinks he hears the quiet sobs coming from him. And it breaks his heart. Neither him nor Cas thinks all of this is real, and neither him nor the angel wants to see the morning sun rise.

Dean holds him a bit tighter and it seems to soothe the Seraph, who hides his face in Dean's neck. The hunter wants to say something, because time is running out, and he knows this bliss won't last forever. But there's not a single word coming to his mind, and he can't find any better way to express his feelings, whatever they are.

There's a soft touch on his shoulder, and so he opens his eyes. What he sees makes his heart jumps in his chest, and his soul bows to this vision.

 

 

Above him, surrounding him, there are wide, shiny black wings. They begin just a bit under where one of his hand is. Still breathless, he dares to raise it, and brushes his fingers against them. When they meet soft, delicate feathers, he's taken by surprise, as well with Cas, whose wings are covered by a sudden shiver.

Cas makes them move and they end up pressed against Dean's sides, the largest feathers brushing against his back. Dean runs his fingers through them, and his other hand is still buried deep into Cas' thick black hair.

The last rays of daylight cast bright gleams on Cas' wings, turning them green, blue, purple... Everytime Dean passes a finger on a feather, it shivers and changes, and it's like they're mirrors soaked in dark, glossy oil, and the skies dive in them.

 

While Dean caresses Cas' wings and hair, he realizes something. Well, or rather he realizes the extent of his feeling. This rock on his chest when he tries to breathe, the way his mind gets blurry, these entire gardens of roses that grow in his lungs. These nights he spent alone, eyes wide open, waiting for something that would never come.

 

In this moment, surrounded by ablaze skies and falling stars, he realizes he desire one thing, only one. Throw away the shame and fear, he's ready to live and breathe again!

 And he doesn't care about his pain, and he doesn't care about his stubborn heart, and he certainly doesn't care about the Darkness. He's ready to love, like he never had before, he's ready to throw every spark of his soul into this feeling devouring him.

 

And he holds on that coat, on these wings, on this bubble of softness and never-ending joy.

 

 

Except that bubble is fragile and thin, and it shatters into million pieces when a voice he knows too well breaks the silence around them.

 

"This is not real, Dean."

 

Dean raises his head, immediately taking Cas by his side, and the angel opens wide eyes. His wings stiffen, and he tries to push Dean behind him, protect him like a shield. But the hunter stands like a stone, and he's cold and terrified.

 

"Wake up!" the voices whispers, and there's a cruel laugh into these words.

 

For in front of them, standing on that peaceful cliff, there's now the source of their sorrow, the knife that cuts deep into their souls.

 

_Lucifer._

 

** x **

 

 

The second Dean sees him, the landscape falls apart around him.

 

The sky that was like soft velvet above them is now dark and threatening, and is covered by grey clouds that look like tumors. The ocean is now raging with strength and the waves break on the shore, and it sounds like someone was crushing bones under their feet. The wind gets stronger and it hits Dean's face like a million arrows of ice. A thin rain started to fall on them and they have to blink to chase the acid drops away.

The fields are not bright anymore, they are just rivers of blood and mud, and every flowers have been crushed under the Archangel's feet.

 

Cas pushes his wing harder on Dean's chest, trying to make him step back. The angel is staring at Lucifer, and his eyes burn of anger and pain. Dean can't take his eyes off him, off this monster in disguise, of this plague that flows inside Cas' veins in the real world. He grips the angel's arm at this thought, decided to not let him go this time.

But before he can even say a word, Lucifer smirks.

 

" **This** is your reality." he says as he snaps his fingers.

 

The lightning strikes, the thunder fills the chaos around them. The rain gets stronger and every drop makes Dean ache when it touches his skin. Trees are ripped out of their roots, and they fall on the ground with a sinister creak. The sky suddenly burns and turns blood-red, casting evil shadows on Lucifer's face.

The ocean starts to growl like a rabid dog and Dean's heart starts to ache. A painful, deep lament comes out of his lungs and he falls on his knees. Castiel turns suddenly, giving him a worried look. Dean raises his eyes and tries to speak, but he spits thick blood instead. Now completely terrified, the angel kneels next to him, and his wings surround them, protecting Dean from the violent rain. Cas raises a hand and puts it gently on Dean's face, and a fresh blue light fills the hunter's mind as he takes a deep breath that makes him cough even more.

Castiel turns his head to look at Lucifer, and Dean would swear there's all Heaven's wrath in his eyes. He's about to get up but Dean holds him back, nearly begging him. His mouth still tastes like blood and every inch of his skin burns like it was covered by fire. Cas wraps an arm around him, and Dean ends up leaning on him, his head on the angel's shoulder.

 

Dean's vision starts to get blurry and the only things keeping him awake are the heart beating desperately behind him, and the long, sharp feathers he can see on both sides of him.

 

Lucifer laughs louder, and he covers his brother with eyes full of contempt. His silhouette shakes from time to time, and the edges of his body are just dark smoke. He glances at Dean and the hunter feel a shiver running on his back, and he supposes this what facing the Devil feels like. He almost forgot the feeling, since all these years.

Lucifer's eyes follow every move Dean makes, from his shaking hand gripping Cas' coat, to the desperate glances he gives to the angel next to him. Castiel is also shivering of anger.

 

In the space of a few seconds, too much happens and Dean's distraught heart starts to beat louder than the thunder. Lucifer whispers something he doesn't hear and raises his head, ready to snap his fingers again.

 

Castiel suddenly moves to face Dean. His cold hands frame Dean's face, and his eyes are full of tears the hunter never saw, as he whispers: "I'm so sorry..."

Dean shakes his head, frowning of confusion and begins to mutter a question.

 

But before he can say the words burning his tongue, there are glacial lips on his own, and the hunter opens wide eyes.

 

 

There's Cas holding his face like he was made of glass, and there's his mouth against Dean's and he's a prisoner of this butterfly of ice. There are Castiel's wings surrounding them, like the angel threw the night over them. And there are ashes falling from the sky, and the ocean is on fire, and the air is made of thick gold.

 Dean melts a little more under this kiss, and he's barely breathing. The world is burning around him, and the ashes are still falling. They cover his hair, his skin, Cas' wings, the sea... Dean burns inside but he holds on these lips that taste like snow and tears and pain.

 

And so the agony he feels when Cas is taken away from him is umbearable. He falls on his hands and the cliff is burning. The grief is consuming him whole and a stranggled cry escapes his throat as he tries to reach for Cas.

 

But his angel is now standing feets away from him, and Lucifer is behind him, his hands on Cas' shoulders, and Dean would swear there are claws diving into Castiel's flesh.

 

Dean wants to get up and run to them, but all the strength left in his broken body is now gone and his legs refuse to carry him. He whispers Cas' name and this one looks at him, and what Dean sees on his face breaks his heart. The most cruel, immense pain is painted on his face, dancing in his shining blue eyes. He let his wings fall, and they touch the ground, miserable. The angel even tries to make a small step to him, but Lucifer holds him back, diving his nails a bit more into his shoulders, making Castiel wince of soreness. But despite the blood that starts to flow on his coat, he still mutters apologies and promises to Dean.

The hunter stops moving, and it's an arrow of ice Cas shoots into his heart: three new words fly into the cold air, and ring into Dean's ears. Three words that sound too much like the ones he kept in the back of his head, the ones he never dared to say. He observes Cas, and his spirit is lost at sea. The angel gives him a last look, and he sighs deeply, closing his eyes. The air shivers around him and a sudden wave of emotion hits Dean, filling him with light and warmth and _l o v e_.

 

Dean screams Cas' name, and lightning strikes just next to him, blinding him for a few seconds. When he opens his eyes again, Lucifer is gone.

 

And so is Cas.

 

The ocean moves dangerously and a wave of dark poison rises above Dean's head. He doesn't even move, he just lays on the cold ground. The last thing he sees is a bright red rose, miraculously spared by the storm raging around him. Next to it, there's another flower, but this one is dry and white. He reaches out for them and the thorns dive in the skin of his hand. He doesn't even flinch, he just holds the flowers close to him, for a reason he ignores.

 

Before he closes his eyes, a small thing falls next to him. A dark-as-night feather, as big as his hand lands on the burnt ground. He takes it and holds it firmly, and his tears join the roses and the feather.

 

The water swallows him.

He drowns in deep blue sorrow.

 

 

 

**\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -**

 

 

 

Dean wakes up suddenly. He's shaking and his clothes are soaked in cold sweat.

He looks around him, terrifed, but the room is empty.

 

He's alone, in the dark.

 

He falls back on his bed. His heart is beating so loud he's afraid it'll break his ribs. He feels complety exhausted and empty, like every piece of his soul has left for a darker place.

 

What a brutal, cruel dream. Just like reality wasn't enough... What he saw was incredible, beyond everything he desired, and it felt so real he actually believed it was the truth!

What a fool! Of course that was another trick of his tortured mind, a self-inflicted pain he cannot make disappear! But before Lucifer arrived, everything was so pure and soothing, his spirit was finally in peace and he was feeling... _good_.

 

He remembers every single detail of it: the breeze on his hair, the sun on his skin, the sound of waves breaking in his ears. Every scent, every color is inscribed inside his mind. He still tastes the rain and the blood, and there's one memory above the others, making his way in the darkness like a ray of light.

He remembers too well holding Cas in his arms, the warmth of his body against his, the sound of his beating heart. He even remembers the taste of his lips, and he still hears he angel's words, echoing internally.

He's sure his bones collapsed against Cas' and that a part of his soul escaped to wrap itself around the Seraph's heart, and he's sure his fingers passed through thick dark feathers.

 

He doesn't realize he's crying until he feels something cold and soft rolling on his cheek. He raises a hand to wipe it away and that's when he sees he holds something.

 

He opens his hand, slowly, carefully. A few drops of bright blood fall on his bed.

Dean heart's stop. Teardrops join the blood.

In his palm, all crushed and broken, there's a little treasure.

 

In his shaking palm, there are two roses: a bright red one and a dry one, as white as the snow.

And like a sharp blade made of night and stardust, there's a long, black feather...

 

 

** x **

 

 

Miles away, buried under the ground, seating on a throne of cold flames, two eyes open suddenly.

 

For a second, there's nothing but pain and sorrow in those eyes, there's nothing but memories in this mind. There's a death-defying love in this heart, and it beats and it wants to break his chains.

For a second, these blue eyes are full of tears and for a second those lips articulate a name, and Hell shivers under this wave of sorrow.

 

There's no roses, but dull and grey ashes, and the taste of warm lips.

 

He could escape right now, but then his sacrifice would mean nothing. He can't return to home. He must deserve it. And once the world will be safe, maybe he'll fight. But for now, he must hold on.

He must be sure Dean will be safe, and that everyone he loves is too. If anything happens to Sam, Dean would never forgive him, and then he's sure he'll go insane. Then existence will be too heavy to cary.

 

He must hold on. He whispers once again.

The angel breathes deeply and the second after, he falls into the blackness.

 _He's gone_.

 

Instead, cruel blue eyes contemplates the chaos of his kingdom.

 

In the electric silence of Hell, there's a prayer floating, going like a foreign melody and it's ringing, and ringing, and ringing...

 

_«Dean...Dean...Dean...Dean...Dean...Dean...Dean...Dean...»_

 

 

**\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -**

 

 

_Oh I dreamt of ashes last night,_

_I heard your voice and I believed._

_I loved you, and I loved you again._

_But the ocean took you,_

_I'm alone on the shore and I ache._

_There's a void inside of me,_

_And I cannot make it disappear._

_I dreamt of ashes last night_

_And they're falling on me..._

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Flower Symbolism:  
> Red Rose: True Love  
> Dried White Rose: Sorrow


End file.
